


Explosion

by yankeetooter



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Valoris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:30:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yankeetooter/pseuds/yankeetooter
Summary: Two explosions in Boris' life affect him drastically.





	Explosion

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a young Valoris story, so don't be misled by ginger hair and freckles! 🙂

Back during the war, Boris Shcherbina was not the man he was as of early 1986. He was an officer in charge of a small unit, a strict man who nevertheless cared deeply for his men. But the Boris of that past was much more demonstrative of his emotions towards others, particularly one young lad.

This young lad's name was Ilya, and he was very young, though still eligible to serve in Boris' unit. He was of medium build, with ginger hair and freckles galore. Ilya was, truth be told, rather clumsy and painfully shy to boot; nevertheless, the men in Boris' unit all loved him and were very protective of him, although no one moreso than Boris. Ilya had grown up fatherless and so it was perhaps inevitable that he would come to look at Boris as a father figure, and for the bachelor Boris to see him as his son.

Boris and Ilya became very close, and many was the evening they would sit and talk about their lives outside the army. Although it was discouraged for officers to do so, Boris eventually invited Ilya to call him by his first name when the other men were not around. 

And so all continued for a while, until that fateful day...

Ilya had gone out with a group of four men to scout the area when they unknowingly came across an abandoned minefield. Ilya, always feeling the need to prove himself as the youngest, had moved somewhat further ahead of the other men when tragedy struck. Some reflex of his had him leaping to the side as the mine went off, but the results were the same. Although Ilya was not obliterated beyond recognition, still his wounds were fatal.

By the time Boris arrived on the scene, Ilya had already breathed his last. Boris, who had sprinted the two miles from camp, sank to his knees by Ilya's side, grief stricken and too stunned to cry. He had the other men gather up Ilya's body to take it back to camp, while he followed behind, tears finally flowing freely down his face.

A funeral service was held the next day for the young man, over which Boris presided as commanding officer. Boris struggled to not break down so as to appear strong for his men, but by the end of the short service, not a cheek was dry.

Sitting in his tent later that evening, Boris felt everything overwhelming him. He needed to fill out paperwork so that Ilya's family could receive benefits. Also, he would travel to Moscow the next weekend to break the news to Ilya's mother in person - it was the least he could do! He had just finished the necessary documents, and sent for their unit's KGB official for his signature. 

KGB agent Charkov entered the tent at Boris' "Come in," and sat in the offered seat. Charkov did his job properly, but there was something about him that got Boris' hackles up. Boris couldn't put his finger on whatever it was, but he did not trust the man. And their relationship was about to take a turn for the worse.

"I need your signature on some papers, Comrade Charkov." Boris pushed the papers across to the agent.

Charkov took a quick glance at the papers, pen poised and ready to sign, when he suddenly sat back. "Comrade Shcherbina, I'm afraid I cannot authorize these orders." When Boris looked at him with mouth wide open, an increasingly hostile glare on his face, Charkov moved to explain.

"Comrade Shcherbina, it is true that what happened to Comrade Ilyusha was a tragedy. Be that as it may, the KGB feels that it would be detrimental to the Party if word got out about how he was killed. Therefore, I am not authorizing the full military benefits you have requested for his family, or your visit to Moscow."

Boris looked death at Charkov. "How dare you, or the KGB, or anyone in the Party, deny this young man's family what they are due?And the commanding officer always, whenever possible, goes in person to notify the family!". Boris had risen out of his chair, and was hovering over Charkov with fists clenched.

Charkov sat, unfazed by the hulking figure of Boris before him. He smiled ingratiatingly at Boris, hands spread. "Normally that may be true, Comrade, but the Party does not want the people to be aware that their sons and fathers are being killed off due to a careless mistake. Perhaps you would rather take the responsibility for this young man's death? No? Than, the report will read that Comrade Ilyusha died of dysentery. His family will still receive benefits, just not those awarded for death in direct service. And it would not be proper for a commanding officer to go in person to tell the family of a death caused by dysentery, now would it? That might raise suspicions. And you, Comrade Shcherbina, being a conscientious man, might be tempted to share more than it would be wise to. No, Comrade Shcherbina, you will remain here in camp. Now, if there's nothing else, I will retire for the night, as should you. You want to be well rested so you can properly serve the Soviet people tomorrow, yes?"

With that, Charkov rose and left the tent. Boris turned and looked for something to throw, but there was nothing to hand. He fell to his knees, sobbing angry tears at his inability to honor Ilya properly. Ilya, the closest thing to a son he might ever have. Ilya, with whom he had always been able to share his innermost thoughts.

Burdened by unreleased grief and the inability to ease that grief through normal means, Boris began to change after that night. Perhaps the reader can forgive this change in him, because from then on, Boris resolved never again to let anyone into his heart. His care for his fellow man's travails continued, but no longer did he open himself up to anyone. No longer did he allow himself to become that close. Doing so only led to unbearable pain.

____________________

April 26, 1986, at 1:23 a.m., Reactor #4 at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant exploded, affecting countless lives in the USSR. Boris Shcherbina was one of those lives.

____________________

The morning of April 26, 1986, a commission met that was to oversee the cleanup of Chernobyl. Boris, who had been placed in charge of the commission, had contacted one Valery Legasov of the Kurchatov Institute to act as the consulting scientist of the commission.

Boris had never met the man, but had heard good things about the scientist's work. When Legasov entered the meeting room, Boris absentmindedly indicated an empty seat. Boris was so distracted by giving his report that he barely glanced in Legasov's direction, until...

"No, we can't adjourn!" The entire room suddenly focused on the scientist, Boris included. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the sight of Legasov. He was younger than Shcherbina, ginger haired and freckled, and seemed ill at ease. Boris felt memories engulfing him, memories of another much younger man, also ginger haired and freckled. Ilya!

Boris was a man who had mastered his emotions over the years. One did not become an aparachtchik unless one could hide their thoughts and feelings from others, but Boris was especially good at this, keeping others at an arm's length.

Thus he was able to maintain his composure, despite the memories crashing in on him and the determination of the scientist to question everything on the reports the commission had already accepted. But when Gorbachev ordered him to go to Chernobyl, and to take Legasov with him, Boris wanted to stalk off in rage. Still, appearances had to be maintained.

The helicopter ride started off rough. Boris wanted nothing to do with Legasov, but needed to know what he was facing at Chernobyl. Despite his gruff demeanor, Legasov assumed the role of teacher easily, explaining how a nuclear reactor worked. Boris felt his misgivings ease slightly. 

But then the approach to the reactor neared. He was only trying to follow orders, but then...

"Boris...

"Don't use my name!"

That had been too much for Boris. He hadn't allowed that familiarity from others for years, not since the young man Ilya. How dare this freckle-faced, know-it-all scientist come into his life, dredging up raw memories and taking such familiarity? How dare he?

And then, there was the initial meeting with Brukhanov and that sniveling weasel Fomin. They quickly focused their bullying efforts on Legasov, knowing such tactics wouldn't work on Shcherbina.

Shcherbina felt Legasov's eyes on him and turned to meet the beseeching gaze of the man. And that was it. Something about Legasov's vulnerability, the look of helplessness in his eyes, reached that inner part of Shcherbina, tucked away for so many years.

Turning to the others...

"Why did I see graphite on the roof..." And when next he looked at Legasov, the gratefulness in the scientist's eyes thawed the last little bit of ice remaining around Boris' heart.

Things were not perfect after that. Boris and Legasov often butted heads. Legasov was a stubborn man, but his stubbornness was derived from his desire to do the right thing and Boris respected that. Still, Boris wasn't sure he would ever be able to open up to Valery the way he had with Ilya. Then, one day while waiting to meet with Glukov in their work trailer...

"I'm no good at this, Boris."

Boris looked up in surprise. Valery stood against the wall, looking even more vulnerable than he had that first day in Chernobyl. His head thrown back, Valery asked for Boris' help, and finally Boris felt the last wall crumble.

A few days later the pair went on a late night walk, something that was quickly becoming a habit. At night, despite their KGB counterparts, they could enjoy some privacy. That night, Boris told Valery all about Ilya. Oh, he left out the kid's clumsiness and awkwardness. He omitted the similarities in physical appearance between Ilya and Valery. But everything else he laid bare to his friend. His fatherly love for the lad, his horrible death, the grief and depression Boris had felt at his death. Even how he had closed himself off to everyone after that, until Valery had come along.

Valery put his arm through Boris', leaning against the taller man. Any words he could have said would not have spoken so compassionately as this simple gesture of physical touch. 

"Valera..." Boris started, but a sob robbed him of his ability to say anything more. 

"It's okay, Borya," Valery soothed, wrapping his arms around Boris, "let it come."

And Boris let tears, held back for way too long, flow out of him while Valery held him, his hand stroking Boris' shuddering back. Finally, he could allow himself the absolution he had yearned for all these years.

______________________

Months later, the two sat on a bench in a courtyard during a recess at the most important trial of their lives. Boris knew the peril Valery was facing, and he selfishly wanted to keep him from it. It wasn't fair! This man had helped him to love again, and now he might lose him? Boris was nothing, Valery the world. Except...

"For God's sake, Boris, you were the one who mattered most!"

Boris looked stunned at Valery's words. What? He had always known Valery was fond of him, but he could never have grasped that Valery saw him in the same light as he saw him.

They returned to the courtroom, Boris a changed man. When the judge sought to end the trial, Boris leapt to his feet and demanded they let Valery finish. He knew what doing so would mean, but he knew Valery had to tell the truth.

Twenty minutes later, he watched with Ulana as Valery was put in a car and driven away. He watched until his tears blinded him beyond seeing anything else. 

And, a year later, when news reached Boris of Valery's suicide, he nearly shut himself off from the world again. But he remembered that night walk, and Valery telling him over and over again that he couldn't blame himself for Ilya's fate; and now it was almost as if Valery was still by his side, telling him not to blame himself for Valery's death. Weeks later, when that sixth tape came into his possession, he no longer had to hear Valery's voice in his head absolving him. He had only to turn on the tape recorder.

_____________________

It had taken an explosion many years ago to forge the man Boris Shcherbina would become, and not until a second explosion was he reborn in love and forgiveness.


End file.
